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that the creatures moved slowly, their imperviousness making speed unnecessary when they attacked. If Jean and Rabbie could escape the village, they might be able to outrun the creatures.
    Jean’s hand was wet with Rabbie’s tears, but he had the sense to weep in silence. The poor boy probably sensed his sister’s fear and was rendered obedient by it. They were huddled there, quiet and terrified. The image of rabbits frozen at the sign of danger, hoping to avoid a predator’s notice, jumped into Jean’s mind. She was no rabbit.
    “Rabbie, we have to run,” Jean whispered. “It’s the only way. If we stay here, we’re in danger.”
    Daring to pull her hand from his mouth, Jean heard him say, “Ma?”
    She forced herself to answer. “We can’t wait for her. I saw her outside and she said we should run.”
    Rabbie nodded and Jean let her brother go. He crawled out from their hiding place. She followed, putting her finger to her lips so Rabbie would know they still had to be quiet.
    Unbarring the door, Jean opened it a crack. She peered through the narrow slit at what little she could see. In the line from the door toward the path out of the village, she didn’t spy any of the shadow beasts.
    Taking Rabbie’s hand, she said, “Don’t look at the village, don’t look for Ma, just look at me. And no matter what, don’t stop running.”
    Rabbie’s fingers squeezed hers and she opened the door.
    Jean broke into a run, pulling Rabbie along as fast as his little legs would allow. The noises swirling through the village like fog were awful. Sobs, screams, choking cries, each bespeaking the agony of those who had fallen to the shadow creatures.
    Taking her own advice, Jean didn’t look anywhere but ahead. She kept her eyes on the line of the forest, where the path from Dorusduain to the road lay. Her heartbeat raced faster than her legs could move. She plunged on, thinking of nothing but escape.
    They’d reached the huts that lay on the southern edge of the village when Rabbie shrieked. Unable to keep pace with his sister, the little boy’s legs tangled and he fell. The force of his collapse tore his fingers from Jean’s grasp.
    Jean stopped, pivoted, and gathered Rabbie into her arms. She turned again and kept running while her brother clung to her. Jean had hoped carrying Rabbie would free her legs to move faster, but at three Rabbie was too big to be carried by an eight-year-old girl, and Jean soon found herself struggling and breathless.
    Her lungs were burning as she cleared the edge of the forest. The woods, usually teeming with birdsong and buzzing insects, had gone silent. Behind her, screams continued to rise from Dorusduain, though, now muffled by the forest, they sounded more like the wailing of ghosts.
    Forcing one foot in front of the other, Jean continued to run, but she didn’t know how much farther her legs would carry her. Unable to stop it, Jean sobbed and Rabbie panicked, his chubby fists grabbing her hair. She cried out in pain, but still she ran.
    Suddenly, they weren’t alone. Jean’s chest cramped with fear as a dark shape loomed from the woods onto the path. But her terror became a surge of hope as she realized the shadowy quality of the figure was due to the cloak of the forest, blotting out the sun. This was no monster, but a man.
    The man was tall and alone. The possibility of rescue gave Jean new strength and she plunged along the path toward the man. When she was close enough to see his features, Jean could tell he was a stranger and not of their village.
    He watched as she approached. Stopping a few feet away from him and giving one glance over her shoulder to be sure no monster was at her back, Jean set Rabbie down and tried to catch her breath. Still frightened, Rabbie clung to her knees.
    The stranger peered at her. “What are you running from, child?”
    Jean looked up at him. He wasn’t a Highlander, but she didn’t think his words carried the tones of a Lowlander either.